Lullabies
by xSeshatx
Summary: {Oneshot} December was a rough month for Peter, and now he was expected to get through it without May as well as Ben (Part 5 of the Peter Parker: Future Hearts series)


It was cruel that Uncle Ben died at such a happy time of the year. Christmas was one of the happiest times ever. The time for family, gift-giving, and happiness. The entire month of December was just the extended version of Christmas, so the fact that Ben died in December really put a damper on that holiday. The year he died, Christmas was less than a week after his funeral. There were no gifts. There wasn't a big dinner. There was no celebration. Aunt May picked up a shift at work. Peter slept all day. The next year was better since they learned to live without Ben. It was a happier time, but there was still the underlying sadness of the entire ordeal beneath the Christmas cheer. It had only been a year. They had managed as well as they could.

It didn't take long for the emotions of Ben to hit him once Christmas break started. The day break began was exciting. Movies were played all day at school. Students would skip their class and go to a different class to see other friends. There was even a party held by the Spanish teacher. He sat with Ned and MJ all day while they discussed their plans for the three-week vacation they had from school. MJ had a goal to read fifteen books. The other two laughed at her when she said this because: "We all know you're going to read _at least_ twenty." Ned was going to visit family in Maine over break, so he would be gone most of the time. Peter didn't know his plans because nobody talked about what they were going to be doing, but he was fine with a lowkey holiday.

Things took a depressing turn for Peter once he got in Happy's car after school to be brought upstate which was where they were all going to remain throughout break. He got in the car, excitedly telling Happy of how fun school had been that day before his eagerness died out and he put his headphones in for the rest of the drive. He played some mindless games on his phone, trying and failing to not think sad thoughts. Christmas was a time to be happy, not sad, but he didn't think he'd ever truly enjoy Christmas anymore.

Besides, this was going to be his first Christmas without May. It was going to be an extra hard one. Second anniversary of Ben, second Christmas without Ben, and first Christmas without May. Might as well throw in his parents, too, because he hadn't had Christmas with them in many, many years. Christmas kinda sucked, didn't it?

"Kid?" Happy suddenly said, pulling Peter out of his thoughts. He pulled one earbud out of his ears to be able to hear the other man easier.

"Yeah, Hap?" He definitely called Happy 'Hap' now. They were buds. Best of friends. Happy only sometimes ignored Peter now.

"You're never this quiet."

That was true. Peter talked more than a child with a sugar high. Peter a year ago would have blown it off, said he was fine, and would have started talking more than usual to make up for the previous silence. The Peter of now who had lost May, moved in with the Avengers, and been adopted by Tony was a bit more open with his emotions. After all, he had a wonderful support group. "We're coming up on the second anniversary of Ben," he mumbled, tapping a rhythm out on his phone even though he had locked it. "I didn't really think about it until school got out."

A moment of silence followed. It was long enough for Peter to begin regretting his decision to be honest about what he was feeling. "Nobody expects you to be happy all the time, you know," he eventually said. "With you, it seems to be you're bouncing off the walls and in the best mood, or you're having some sort of breakdown. You can be sad sometimes. Life isn't just black or white."

He took a second to think about what Happy had said. For the most part, it was true. He tended to either have a great time or a miserable time because he was so busy trying to be less of an inconvenience than he ignored his problems and let them fester into something more. That was something that Peter himself hadn't really realized he did, but with Happy pointing it out, it couldn't have been more obvious. He wondered who else had already drawn that same conclusion. "I don't mean to do that," he admitted. "It's just…easier, I guess."

"I get that," Happy said, glancing at him through the rear-view mirror momentarily. "All I'm saying is that you might want to avoid doing that, at least for your uncle. We don't want to wake up one day and find out that you're not eating, not sleeping, and all that stuff you tend to do when you let things get too bad. It's okay to let yourself be sad about this."

"If I talk to Tony about this, he'll just feel bad for me, and he'll start looking at me like I'm made of glass again. He does that a lot when I'm not the way everybody expects me to be." The sentence didn't make that much sense to even himself, but Happy seemed to understand what he meant.

"You know he doesn't expect anything from you, right? He doesn't expect you to be one hundred percent every day. You're allowed to have off days."

He thought back to that time from Decathlon where he admitted to Tony about having some separation anxiety. Tony had handled it pretty well, and Peter brought it up before it became a big deal, and nothing changed. At least not really. Small things changed, like Tony would text him around lunch every day with a status report. These mostly consisted of "hey, I have x amount of meetings today, I'll be here, here, and there, but I'll be home by the time you get here." Small, simply things to keep him updated. Tony didn't start treating Peter like he was broken again. He didn't become overly cautious. He didn't make it a big deal. So, maybe Happy was right about being allowed off days. There was room for some gray.

"Thanks, Happy."

When he got to the Compound, he decided that he definitely did not want to pretend he was okay enough to watch a movie, play a game, or just hang out with any of the Avengers. He didn't want to work in the lab with Tony. He didn't want to text MJ or Ned. He just wanted to mope quietly in his room which was something he never did. He tossed his bookbag to the side, shut his door, and flopped face down in bed. He expected someone to come knocking at his door shortly after getting home, but nobody came and bothered him. He didn't get any calls from anybody. Friday didn't alert him to anyone requesting his presence. The only thing he got was a text from Tony telling him what was for dinner and when it would be ready (stroganoff, by the way, ready by six thirty). It was nice, actually. He was allowed to grieve silently, and nobody came by to hover. He should probably listen to Happy more often.

Dinner was a quiet affair, but it wasn't awkward. There was no uncomfortable silence like he expected because Tony wasn't sitting in his seat looking as if he wanted to say something. Instead, Tony gave him a gentle smile (one reserved for only Peter) and the two sat together without using words. When Peter asked to go on patrol, Tony agreed, as long as he was home before curfew. In the summer, it had been three. On school nights, it was ten. On weekends, it was midnight. It was Christmas break, so Tony agreed to one.

Honestly, when Peter moved in with Tony, he expected one out of two things in regard to Spider-Man. He thought that either he would be out as Spider-Man at any waking moment or he would be kept on a strict schedule on when to be it. Instead, he was given much leniency. "I know what you do is important, and I know that the more I'm on your side, the easier it'll be on you, and the less chance you have of being injured by being reckless," Tony explained to him a few months before. There had been some moments where they got into an intense discussion because of patrol, like when Peter would go out on patrol right after school, come by in time for dinner, just to go out again. That habit only lasted a week before Tony canned it, making it so that Peter had to go either before dinner or after dinner, but not both. It was fair. They made it work. Sometimes, Peter even skipped patrol altogether. He had learned how to take better care of himself and stop running himself down.

There was no reason for Peter to become a little rebellious. Nothing drove Peter to decide that missing curfew was okay. He didn't want to make Tony worry. He didn't want to disobey rules. But something was keeping him out past one, so he remained swinging through the city. He beat up bad guys, webbed them up, and went to beat up more bad guys. One thirty rolled around, but he had no intentions of stopping. Swinging from building to building was exhilarating any other day, but today he just felt antsy. He didn't want to stop but he wanted nothing more than to stop. It didn't make sense to him and that only frustrated him.

By the time Tony called at two, Peter was more irritated than he had any right to be. He tried declining the call, but of course Karen was prohibited from allowing that, so Tony was patched through to his suit. "You know we agreed on one, right?" Tony asked. "It's pushing two, kid. Where are you?"

"I'll be on my way home soon," Peter said, barely keeping himself from snapping. He couldn't understand where this anger came from. He had a good day at first, then he had a sad day, but he was grateful for the silence, and then he patrolled. There was no good reason to be angry, yet there he was.

"I'm pretty sure I just heard you say you're on your way home now, because you're an hour late as it is, so I don't know why the word 'soon' would come out of your mouth."

"I said I'll be there soon, Tony," he said, this time with some good ol' teenage attitude.

"Yikes. Understood. You got ten minutes before I come and get you. I expect you to put yourself in check by the time you get here and have a good excuse for being late _and_ that 'tude of yours. Wait, did I really just say 'tude'? You see what you're doing to me, kid? I used to be a respectable member of society, but now I'm saying dad things like 'that 'tude of yours.'" He made a tone of disgust. "I blame you. Get home soon." The line went dead.

There was no doubt that Tony was saying all that stuff just to get Peter to lighten up a little, and he had to admit it worked. He sighed to himself before making his way back to the Compound. Crime upstate was very different to crime in New York City, but it worked all the time. Any bad guy he stopped was worth it. He was making a difference no matter where he was fighting.

After the Compound had been destroyed in that lab accident months before, Tony had an entrance made specifically for him on the roof, thanks to his web-swinging abilities. He landed on the roof, swung in through his little window, and took his mask off once safely inside. Tony was standing there waiting for him with a sandwich on a plate in one hand and a can of Sunkist in the other. "Figured you could use the energy," Tony explained, handing both to Peter after he made his way over.

"I'm sorry, Tony," Peter said, setting the plate and can on the counter. He hopped up on top of the counter, too, completely ignoring the chairs. He dropped his mask beside him and rested his chin on his hand with his elbow on his thigh. "I blew curfew and I snapped at you. Both were wrong. I'm sorry."

"You don't gotta sound so mad at yourself," Tony said with more seriousness than before. "Happens to the best of us. Lost track of time."

"I didn't," he admitted. "I just…I don't know. Didn't feel like coming back yet, so I stayed out. I won't do it again. Please don't take the suit."

"I won't take the suit after one lapse of judgement, Pete. Why didn't you feel like coming back yet?"

"I don't know, and I got so mad all of a sudden, and I still am," he said, banging his head with his fist. "It's just been a rough day. I'll be better tomorrow."

He was only mildly surprised when he felt Tony's arms wrap around him. Since both of his arms were smushed between the two of them, he couldn't hug back, but he still let himself lean into the embrace. One of Tony's hands came to rest on the back of his neck right below where his hair ended, and he squeezed lightly. "You're allowed to have off days," he said, basically echoing what Happy had said earlier in much less words.

"Doesn't give me an excuse to ignore your rules," he mumbled.

"No, it doesn't, and I'm not going to pretend like what you did was okay, but you're owning it, you apologized, and you're talking to me instead of hiding away whatever was running through your mind," Tony said. "As far as mistakes go, I'd say there were worse ways you could have went about this."

Neither of them ended up going to sleep for a while. Peter ate the snack Tony prepared for him and then he followed Tony to his and Pepper's room. Pepper was awake, too, claiming that she didn't have anything to do until the late afternoon, so she didn't need to be asleep anytime soon. Peter had laid across the foot of the bed as he watched TV with the two of them and they talked. They didn't talk about anything of importance. Instead, they talked about anything else. Peter told them about the time he fractured his wrist while jumping off of the swings at school because someone bet him he wouldn't be able to. Pepper talked about her brief time taking a hip-hop dance class when she was a teenager. Tony described in detail the first time he tried flying a helicopter (being rich had benefits, he had said). After a while, Tony sent Peter off to bed when he started dozing off.

He was okay for a couple of days before the sadness hit him again. This time, it hit him because it was the anniversary. He woke up with gunshots echoing through his head. Only moments later was he rushing off to the bathroom to wash his hands of the blood he could so clearly picture on his hands because it wasn't in Ben anymore. When the panic attack started, it was Sam who came to help because he was the closest person to his room at the time. Sam made sure Peter's back was straight after Peter tried to hunch himself over out of habit and counted his breaths until his lungs worked properly again. It was also Sam who kept a hand on his back as he threw up into the toilet seconds later.

"You alright now, bud?" he asked after Peter leaned back against the wall.

"Yeah," he responded, panting lightly. "Sorry. Thanks."

"What do you need? You need company? Rest? Tony?"

"Tony. He busy?"

"Last I knew, he was in the lab. Said he should be back up here by the time you woke up but asked me to be here in case you woke up before he came back. Said you were probably gonna have a rough morning. He's probably already on his way back up here. No doubt Friday let him know what was going on. What _is_ going on?"

He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. All he wanted was to talk about it now to anybody willing to listen because he never really talked about it before. May knew what happened, but he avoided talking about what happened to Ben. Now, he regretted never giving his version of events to anybody other than the police. "My Uncle Ben, uh, he died two years ago today. Shot in a robbery. I could have…I could have stopped it. I hadn't become Spider-Man yet, but I already had the powers. I was capable of stopping it, but it wasn't my problem, so I didn't, but then Uncle Ben stepped in to try to stop it. He was a good man, my uncle. He was getting old. He was a little slower than usual, but he still stepped up. The robber shot him, and I couldn't do anything about that except for trying to, uh, keep the blood in him rather than out of him, and then he, uh, yeah." He took a shaky breath, opening his eyes to meet Sam's. "I'm glad he wasn't alone when he died, but sometimes I wish it wasn't me who saw it." What he didn't add was that he wished he hadn't seen the death of both his aunt and his uncle. "I became Spider-Man a couple nights later."

"For your uncle," Sam finished. Peter nodded a confirmation. "You know, kid, I used to be in the air force." Peter nodded again because that was common knowledge among the group. "Well, I left after a buddy of mine died. Riley. RPG took him out. Messed me up a little bit. There was nothing I could do. I started talking to other war vets who had some troubles after leaving. What they had gone through, losing someone they cared about…it's not different to what happened with your uncle. You don't have to be physically hurt to carry some affects of PTSD from it."

Peter having PTSD was just something everybody accepted because everybody also had PTSD. It came with their line of work, unfortunately. He never considered the fact that he could also have PTSD from his uncle being shot, but it did make sense. Gunshots still startled him sometimes, and he freaked out just a little whenever he looked down at his hands just to see blood. "I guess you're right," he finally said. A moment later he asked, "Do you think it's wrong for me to not like an entire holiday because of this?"

"Christmas, you mean? Well, Christmas is a little over a week away. It's very close to what happened. It makes sense for the holiday to carry some bad memories for you," he answered. "I myself find that I'm a little down around Memorial Day. One, because that's the day we remember those who died while serving our country, and two because Riley died near the end of May."

The two fell into silence then that lasted only a minute or so before Tony joined them in the bathroom. He took one look at the sad sight in front of him before he sighed. "You really do live one sad life, don't you, kid?" he said, his own heart hurting for Peter. He held his hand out for Peter to grab, pulling him up to his feet. He offered a hand to Sam, too, his took it with a nod. Tony nodded back. "You up for a drive, kiddo? Just you and me?"

"Yes, please," Peter said.

Ten minutes later, they were in one of Tony's old cars, speeding down a dirt road leading nowhere. "I'm not gonna lie, kid: Friday had me on the line. I heard what you two talked about." Peter nodded because, really, he couldn't expect anything different. He grew used to Tony's antics by then. "We don't have to do anything for Christmas if it's gonna be too hard, you know. I never really celebrated holidays before. You won't be breaking my heart or anything if I fly you and I off on a trip to avoid the snow and the singing and the Christmas joy. Say the word and we can leave tonight if you want."

"I don't want to cancel Christmas. I just don't want it to hurt like it is." He laid his head on the cold window. "Last year was fine. Me and…me and May made it work. It was sad, we cried, we visited him, but we got through it. We even laughed. This year, though, without them both… I don't mean to sound ungrateful, Tony. I love you, and I'm so happy I get to spend Christmas with you, but I wish I could spend Christmas with Ben and May with us, too."

"You don't sound ungrateful, Peter. You don't need to feel bad that you miss them. They're always going to be the people who raised you," Tony said, glancing over at Peter momentarily before looking back at the road. "This is probably why you've been a little irritable the past few days, isn't it?"

He didn't think he was being anything less than happy since the day school let out, but apparently, he must have. "Sorry. I didn't think it was obvious or anything. I didn't _feel_ like I was being irritable. I honestly was in a good mood most of the time."

"You've been detached," Tony blurted. Stated in the most matter-of-fact tone that Peter's whole body froze as he processed. "Your therapist said something about dissociation. Gotta admit, psychology was never my strong subject, but I read about it after it was mentioned, and I understand what she meant. Instead of feeling the negative emotions, you just kinda shoved them aside, but you also kinda shoved it all aside and instead acted the way you thought you normally would. She said that it wasn't necessarily a big deal, so I let it go. She did warn me that once you started feeling, it would be a little intense. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up, by the way. I thought you'd sleep a little longer than you did."

"You don't gotta be sorry," he said. "And…I guess that makes sense. A little bit, at least. I have been feeling like I've been on autopilot, I guess."

"Like I said, she didn't seem too concerned about it. She said it was a coping mechanism. Instead of hurting over the anniversary, your brain decided to shut it down completely. Not healthy, I don't think, but it was only a few days."

"It's really always something," Peter said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Ah ah. No apologies. Today is a big day. A very big, very sad day. In a very long, very sad month. Around a usually happy but now sad holiday. You've been told by me and also apparently Happy that you're allowed to not be okay sometimes without having giant freak outs. Even this morning didn't seem as bad as I was expecting which means you're getting better at not suffering in silence until you pop. It's been a few days. You can be sad the rest of the month if it makes it easier for you to make it through."

"I'm sorry for my irritability, though. I feel like that's a thing you should let me apologize for."

"I respectfully disagree, but if apologizing will make you feel better, I accept this totally unneeded apology."

"Really, Tony, I am sorry."

Tony gave him a sad smile when he briefly turned to look at him. "I know you are, Pete, and you don't need to be, but I'll forgive you if that's what you need."

Peter nodded mostly to himself, bringing his legs up to hug them. "Can we…can we just drive around for a little while longer? So I can be sad with nobody else around?"

"We can drive around for as long as you need, but don't even think about putting on a happy face when we get back just for the others. You can let yourself grieve."

It was then that Peter's face crumpled. He let out an accidental cry. "I never thought I'd have to celebrate Christmas without either of them," he said, covering his mouth with his hand to stop the ugly cries from getting out.

From across the seat, Tony reached over to grab hold of Peter's free hand just to squeeze it. "I know, buddy. But you'll get through this. You don't gotta deal with this alone." Instead of answering, Peter let out another cry and squeezed Tony's hand tight. Sometimes, a good cry was all that was needed.


End file.
